Weakened Hope
by boredanddelirious
Summary: Barbara Gordon, still recovering from the shooting, finds out that Jason Todd, the second Robin, is dead. Babs contemplates the ramifications for Batman, for herself, for her father, and for Gotham City as a whole. Kinda bleak. R & R, please.


** Author's Note:** This is just a little ficlet about what might be going through Barbara Gordon's (Batgirl, later Oracle) mind when she learns of Jason Todd's (the second Robin) death. I'm not entirely sure if this fits with canon, as I'm going from memory here...but from what I know, the Joker shot Babs a few months before Jason was killed. (If anyone wants to beta this, for canon and general editing, leave your e-mail! I'd appreciate it.)

Btw, this is also my first Batman fic that I've posted. Be brutal, please.

**Disclaimer:** Characters from DC Comics. I own nothing (sadly).

She had been out of the hospital for a little over a month when it happened. Barbara and Bruce hadn't seen or communicated with each other since he'd visited her there. She'd yelled and told him off, knowingly hurt his feelings, resenting him and the privilege he unknowingly possessed being able to feel guilty, and regretting all of it at the same time.

It had always been her habit to read the newspaper cover to cover every morning during breakfast. Dad had stayed up late doing paperwork the night before and was rightfully sleeping in a few extra hours, so she had some time to herself before he woke up. He had always done paperwork in his office at the GCPD headquarters before, but he'd been taking it home ever since Barbara had been taken there as well.

Her career as Batgirl had been fairly part-time and sporadic in the months leading up to the ... _incident_. She didn't know Jason very well at all. He was a bit of a brat, as far as she was concerned, and was rough in his methods as Robin. It was a shock to see someone in that costume look so much like Dick but be so different.

She couldn't help but wonder what was going through Bruce's mind when he'd given Dick's title to that kid. When she found out, she couldn't help but wonder and worry about how it would affect Dick, and just --_what Bruce was thinking?_

Reading between the lines of what had been going on with the Joker in the past few weeks, she knew Batman had followed him overseas. She didn't know where Jason --_Robin_-- fell into it exactly. The only story that had been written about the Joker's apprehension had been penned by Clark Kent, reporter for Daily Planet, and been distributed to the other major papers. Nicely controlled for the moment.

She read the article over three times, wondering what details had been delicately omitted, hoping to glean some greater meaning, before giving up to read the rest of the paper. It wasn't until she read the modest obituary for the adopted son of Bruce Wayne that she put two and two together and knew just what had occurred.

Her hands felt cold and her heart sank into her stomach. Dead.

She picked up the phone. He probably wasn't home yet. If he was, he was probably "indisposed". Barbara was rather hoping that she _would_ get Alfred. A part of her was embarrassed to talk to Bruce. He was probably falling apart right now, and she didn't think she could deal with it right now.

It rang twice. "Wayne residence," answered the Englishman.

"..." She didn't know what she had wanted to say. She hadn't thought that far ahead.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Hello?"

"Hi, Alfred. It's... Barbara Gordon."

"Miss Gordon! It is certainly good to hear from you." His voice was full of an emotion she couldn't quite identify.

"I...um...I read the paper this morning." There was silence on the other side of the line. She hated herself for what she was about to ask. "Is it true?" Her voice was small. Knowing Alfred, he had probably loved and cared for Jason the same way he did with Bruce and Dick. She knew it was rather cruel of her to ask him for confirmation, but she had to be sure. She didn't want to jump to conclusions and have it turn out to be a hoax, with a concrete and practical purpose related to solving a case or something.

She could hear him take a breath, steadying his voice before answering. "I'm afraid so, Miss."

"I...I'm so sorry for your loss." It sounded so lame and inadequate, but she meant it and he knew she did.

"Thank you, my dear."

His words hung heavily over the line for a few moments. "How are you?"

"As well as can be expected. Master Bruce has not yet returned."

"I figured."

"And how are you getting on? I understand you have graduated the hospital and are now convalescing at home?"

"Yeah, I am. It's...different. Difficult." That was the most weakness she'd admitted to anyone in a while. It was hard to lie to Alfred. "But I'm fine. I'm fine," she added. She caught herself before continuing with "I'm alive."

They said their goodbyes and exchanged well-wishes for each other, for Bruce and her father. She listened for the distinctive click as Alfred hung up the phone.

Over the next few days it was general knowledge in Gotham that Robin was dead. None of the reputable newspapers mentioned it, but the trashy ones put it in their "gossip" sections. Those who were aware of what went on in the dark alleys and shadowy rooftops knew. Dad knew, but neither of them brought it up.

She knew that her injury and subsequent paralysis had affected her father and Batman very deeply. Barbara often found herself very frustrated and angry about that very fact. She resented them for it. They got to feel guilty, but she didn't. She couldn't help but think it would have been easier to cope with if the Joker _had_ known she was Batgirl, or if she had done something that specifically set him off. But she wasn't at fault on the same level. Bad luck and carelessness were all she could charge herself with. But Dad and Batman got to feel _sorry_ for her, got to feel _guilty_, as if it was their fault she got in the way.

It was _her_ life, dammit. It was her loss, her injury, her legs, _her life_ that was changed. And now it was Jason's life that had been _taken_.

She found herself growing angrier at all of them to some extent. At herself. Maybe if she had been playing the part of Batgirl more often, if Batman and Robin had had that extra support, such as it was, they would have caught the Joker long before any of it had happened. Before Jason was killed. Before the Joker shot her.

If only she'd looked through the peep-hole. He still would've been outside her door, but she'd have been prepared. Maybe she and Dad could've taken the Joker and his goons down together. At least they wouldn't have been taken by surprise. They could've stalled, called for help. Sent him back to Arkham before any damage was done.

_No. Stop it. Just stop._ She mentally kicked herself for thinking in "if onlys" and "maybes". _Mentally_ kicking herself was the only kind of kicking she'd be doing from now on. It happened. _Don't look for reasons or excuses, don't look for ways to blame yourself, ways to blame them. What's done is done_. She was missing a piece of her spine, she was missing the use of her legs, Robin was dead, Batman was probably going through hell, and she hated the sadness and exhaustion that lined her father's face.

_Those are the facts, Babs, accept them._

She may not have been close to Jason, or known him much at all really, but knowing that _Robin_ was dead just felt like a punch to the gut. Knowing what it did her own morale, knowing what it was probably doing to Bruce, and seeing how yet another tragedy belonging to Gotham added to the weight that Jim Gordon's slouching shoulders always seemed to carry these days, it made _her_ want to punch something.

Of course, punching people was not what girls in wheelchairs did, was it? She wheeled herself over to the window. The sun was visible in the sky, but its brightness was dulled by fog or the haze of pollutants in the air. It was hard to tell which was the culprit.

Typical that Gotham's atmosphere reflected its _atmosphere_. Always fittingly dramatic, this town. It was strange, but sometimes she thought of the city as a single entity, rather than a sum of parts. The people, even people like her, Batman and the Commissioner, they were all just tiny parts of a larger organic machine. Buildings were its tissue, the streets its bloodstream, businesses and government its organs, each person played a part in keeping it alive, allowing it to function the way a city should.

But some people were more...vital. She wasn't so vital, she'd come to realize. Not as she was right now. Not as she was before. Gotham could survive without Batgirl. The change in Barbara Gordon's life had weakened the spirits of two vital people, though. Jason Todd's death, _Robin'_s death, re-doubled the pain and despair. It would be twice as hard for Batman, she knew.

It could weaken them all, and by extension it would weaken those around them, weaken the city as a whole. Collectively, even unconsciously, such a death would weaken the spirits, the _hope_ of everyone in this city.

But she knew that it was her deeply ingrained stubbornness and pride that made her keep all her despair and depression to herself, away from her father. She knew it was a stubborn belief in the system --that what he was doing was right-- that made her father do his job and manage to stay sane. It was a stubborn man who thought that dressing like a giant bat and haunting the grimy Gotham streets would help achieve a better future for everyone.

Stubbornness stems from the hope that what you're doing will make things better somehow, in the end. Barbara wondered how much that hope could be tested and shaken before that kind of determination would fade.

This was the last thing anyone needed.


End file.
